Something She Said
by Leasbian
Summary: I'm in trouble. No, it wasn't in the way she swayed. No, it wasn't how she walked away. I'm seeing double, I don't know where I left my head. Another one-shot from your favorite lesbian. Read, review, and check out my other stuff. Or I'll fuck you up.


**Author's Nose: Yet another one shot and you know what? I'm having so much fucking fun writing them. This one was inspired by Something She Said by Civil Twilight. Actually my last few one-shots have been inspired by their songs from their first(?) album. As always, I would recommend you listen to the song before reading. **

**Also, the next one-shot will probably be a little bitter. Because I just went through a bad break-up and I'm tired of listening to sad songs. I'm starting to listen to soulful angry songs I was raised with. The _fuck you I don't even need you_ songs. **

**Oh, to Tenaji, yeah I'm not sorry I said the word nigga. Because it is a fucking word. A mother fucking word. A fucking word that doesn't mean anything unless you put a negative connotation to it. If it offended you, then I apologize for your sensitivity. And even though you're black yourself, you're more immature for addressing the situation by messaging me and threatening me. That was childish. And I'm being childish by addressing you here but I never claimed to be something I wasn't. So you can unfollow my stories, you can read another article from me if that'll please you. But, I won't stop saying a word to make you happy. Is it fair for me to say the word lesbian or dyke? Because I've also said those words and they have been given negative connotations? It offends you because you think of yourself as such and I suggest your personal issues stay personal. Because I wasn't calling you out when I said it. I was saying a word that means nothing bad to me. Nigga. Nigga. Nigga. Dyke. Dyke. Dyke. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. And guess what? I probably offended a ton of other people and I don't care. This is my story. I'll say what the fuck I want to whomever the fuck I want and you can "bruk" it up with me when you see me...which will be never because this is the fucking internet you fuck. **

**I'm sorry for all of you who had to read that. I hope you still love me or at least respect me. I was just saying that to set an example for the next person who instead of telling me I've offended them decides to threaten me. I will call you out and I will laugh at you. I may do it in a personal manner next time. **

* * *

I'm in trouble. I'm in more than_ trouble._ I'm in deep_ shit_. The problem – the_ trouble _– started approximately two hours ago. When Maura decided we – actually _she_ – should break out the wine. A successful closure to a very tough case always called for celebration. And the main part of that celebration was wine. But, I needed more than wine. After escaping a foot chase with a blow to the head and five stitches performed by Maura, I needed much more than wine. Maura advised against it. So I could heal faster. And at first, I was going to listen to her. I was going to just sit and talk with her until she got too drunk to walk to her own bedroom. But, then she began drinking. And the way her words lingered. The way her eyes drooped and her lips curved into a sinful smile. I wanted to be like that. I wanted to be drunk too. Or maybe I wanted to be drunk with her.

The night was cool. I could feel the breeze more than I could see it. It rustled Maura's hair. It shook fissures into her shirt. It was dark. The streetlights were flickering, but the lights from her house provided us stability. We swayed in the patted wooden swing on her back porch. One of Maura's legs was folded underneath her and I couldn't stop myself from looking at her shorts that rode up. It revealed creamy but probably soft skin. Because no one went out and bought expensive skin care products and decided not to use them. Her other leg hung over the swing and her toes tapped against the wood of her porch.

"This music," She wrapped her arms around herself and swayed slowly in her seat on the swing. "I love Jazz." She sighed and let her arms fall to her sides.

"Dance with me." I stood. Why the hell not, you know? It's safe enough. I've gone to plenty of clubs where women danced together. Okay...maybe some of those clubs were gay clubs but whatever. Completely irrelevant.

She quirked an eyebrow at me. A smirk played at her lips. "Have you consumed a monolithic amount of alcohol, Jane?" I gave her a look. What? "Normally, when sober, you are less than thrilled by pressed proximity."

Ha. She thinks she's funny. "No." I glared. "I'm not drunk." Yet.

"I'm merely elucidating." She took my hand and I pulled her closer with more force than I even thought I was capable of. There was a large in take of breath from her when our bodies clashed together. "_Oh_," She exhaled. "Oh." She looked up into my eyes and I could smell the wine from her breath as it lingered between us. I felt like I'd been hit by lightning and I was still steaming. But, that wasn't where my trouble had started. It wasn't the smell of her licorice red wine scented lips. Actually, I was used to that. It had the same affect on me every time. I was like a cat in heat. The way she danced – even though this was the first time we'd danced _together_ – always turned me on.

There was just something about how relaxed Maura was. In my arms. Her head was on my chest as we swayed to the music. But, when the song changed to something more coercive; she pulled away. Her head fell back as she laughed then she twirled under my arm. I smiled.

"Dance can be very expressive," Her hands slid from mine down to my waist as she laughed into my chest. Her arms wrapped around me. She was definitely drunk. She rocked us. "The proximity of partners. The movements."

"Right now _you're_ moving us both."

"But, _you're_ permitting it." She looked up at me. Her eyes reminded me of the ocean when it's green with anger. "Which tells me that you are submissive to me." She pulled away completely and I tried not to whimper. Her hands ran up her body in a slow build as the song itself built to it's crescendo. I'd forgotten about the music, actually. Then, suddenly, there was a blare of trumpets from the song and Maura squeezed her breasts. When the climax of the song waned, her hands continued up to her neck.

My trouble wasn't in the way that she moved. It didn't start there. We had gone out a few times, and I'd seen her do much more than that. Of course, each time it gave me a thrill and blood rushed from my head all the way down to my core. In a very rhythmical pulse. It always left me dumb and horny each time.

I grabbed the beer from the table next to the swing. I downed most of it because I knew I was going to need to be drunk in order to get through the rest of this night. What's better than one drunk Maura who felt herself up to music? Two. Yep, that's right. I was seeing two of her. Double of everything, in fact. I looked down at my hands and there were two there. I looked back at Maura and she smiled at me as she reached for my two hands.

Maura pulled me close. And wrapped my arms around her waist. When she was secure in my arms, she wrapped her own arms around my neck.

My trouble hadn't started when she kissed me. Albeit, it was something new. She'd never done this before. Perhaps, I was too drunk to realize that maybe the trouble _did_ start there. She kissed my neck. Soft pecks from left to right. Anywhere her lips could reach. And each kiss was somehow wetter than the last. Her teeth grazed my skin and I tried my damn hardest not to slam her down onto the ground and take her right there.

I swallowed hard. The remainder of beer in the bottle shook and swayed along with us as Maura moved us around her backyard. I glanced over to the guesthouse and for now, it seemed safe. Ma wasn't watching us and I sure as hell hoped she couldn't hear us.

Maura's laughter when I accidentally stumbled too far or stepped on her foot filled the backyard.

"Jane," She whispered.

I was going to answer. I wasn't sure what my answer would have sounded like because at this point anything that would come from my mouth would be incoherent and probably illegible. But, before I could even open my mouth to just breathe, her teeth grazed my earlobe. Then they gripped it. And she sucked. Her tongue bathing it in heat. She pulled away and blew on it. I was sure I was going to die.

There was a sound between us and I couldn't decide if it'd belonged to me or her. But, when she sucked again, I could conclude with a reasonably completed hypothesis – if Maura ever asked, that was what I would tell her – that it was me who moaned.

"Jane," She whispered again, this time into my ear.

I shivered. "Mmm?" I must have had a goofy ass look on my face but thank God she couldn't see it.

"Perhaps," She licked her lips. The tip of her tongue brushed my ear. "You should take me to bed."

_That _was where the trouble had started. It wasn't in the way that she moved. It wasn't in the way that smiled. Or smelled. Or even looked. It was something she said.

I nudged her with my nose to look at me. She looked into my eyes. Her own eyes were lazily open. Her face was much more different from when I'd last seen it. She was smiling before. Now, there was a sort of sincerity on her face. It was cocktailed with patience and anxiety, and I could tell she was turned on.

Maura kissed me. Her lips were sweet and soft and delicate. She was careful. Unlike me, I tasted of beer. My lips were rough. I wasn't as patient as her.

But, when her lips parted, our kiss grew. To something feverish. Something unforbearing. We stumbled into her house, past the kitchen and the living room. We staggered down the hall to her bedroom and when we reached the door, she pushed me against it.

"Are you..." I licked my lips. They were swollen. "Are you sure?"

"By this juncture," Her tone was almost patient and annoyed at the same time. "You should know I'm never not sure, Jane." Then she kissed me. Hard. Her fingers at my belt. I wanted to help her but I wanted to see her naked sooner than she was going to _get me_ naked. I yanked her silk shorts down. It was far easier than what she had to go through to get my slacks off. Which required the use of a freaking saw.

Maura wore purple lace. Purple. My favorite color. I wonder if she'd planned this.

She stepped out of the shorts and kicked them somewhere, but they didn't go very far because I stepped on them. The next piece of clothing to go was her long sleeved BCU Medical School shirt. It was tight on her. I loved the way it fit. Just tight enough to show off the swell of her breasts and the flat of her abdomen.

Her bra matched her panties and I didn't expect otherwise. It's Maura, after all.

I pulled away from our kiss and looked down at her breasts. I could say that I had no control of my hands as they wrapped around her breasts and measured them. I could say it was the alcohol. But, that would be a complete lie. I knew exactly what I was doing. I wanted to feel her breasts. I wanted to feel her nipples in my palms. For some time now.

She smiled and reached back to unhook the bra. It easily fell to the floor, right where her shorts and shirt was. While, I was still in my own attire. All that was undone was my belt and slacks.

Her skin was soft. Her nipples were hard. I held her breasts in place as my thumbs traced over the perky nubs. She moaned and I could tell by the way she shifted she was becoming impatient. She'd wanted more. Maura always told me I should pay more attention to art. Right now I was appraising a beautiful sculpture and the critique was A plus _plus._

My trouble wasn't over and I could tell. Maura had somehow found a way to undress me while I stared at her breasts and the hunger to taste them grew. My trouble was now in the center of her room. On her floor in a pile of clothes. She looked at my body. And I suddenly felt insecure, as insecure as I did the first time I'd had sex. Of course, it hadn't even started out this great.

She licked her lips and smiled. "Your physique is perfect, Jane." She must have sensed my anxiety.

"You're kinda hot, too. I guess." My voice was strained. It sounded like I'd spent the previous night screaming at a concert.

Maura laughed. "Shall we?" She gestured to her bed. It was made. Mine probably had pee in it by now because of Jo Friday. I nodded, swallowed my insecurity, and followed her to the bed. She was on one side – her side. I was on the other. We both slid in at the same time but she climbed on top of me. I could feel her wet kissed against my lower abdomen.

I was in trouble. Far deep in it and I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't turn around from this point. And I knew for fact that I nor did she want me to.

We kissed again. This one was soft. In was sensual. And, to be honest, it felt like a real first kiss. The way they're portrayed in movies and books. It was slow and delicate and there were sparks or fireworks or whatever.

I saw a number of dizzying colors and I needed air.

Our tongues collided and fought for dominance. But, I won when I rolled us over rather quickly. So much for taking things slow. I wanted to fuck her not make love to her. And yes, there is a difference. And I knew if things went my way, I would have plenty of other chances to make love to her.

Her legs were wrapped around me. Tightly. Either she was afraid I was going to leave or she wanted to keep me as close as a second layer of skin.

"Jane," She whispered and I looked at her. My world always stopped every time she spoke. "I need to feel you."

I could feel_ her_. Fuck, I could feel her everywhere. But, in particular, I could feel her core pressed against me. I could feel how wet she was. I could smell it and I could hear it. I was drowning in sin and I never wanted survive.

I didn't know how to give her what she wanted. I mean I _knew_, but I didn't know which way was best. So, I decided the best course of action would be to do things my way. We had all night to do it her way. And she was right earlier, I _am_ submissive to her. But, hey, I'm Jane Fucking Rizzoli. It's not my way or the highway. It's my way or my way. And right now, it was my fucking way. For now.

I rolled next to her and looked at her. She looked nervous. She thought I'd changed my mind. "Sit on my face." I instructed.

Face softened now, Maura laughed. "I would crush you."

"Sit on my face, Maur." Boy, I never thought I would say those words to her.

She looked at me. As if to be considering her options. And I guess my look in return told her she had no other options. At least not right now. She nodded and crawled on top of me. Then she climbed until my lips were pressed against her lower pair.

I could already taste her. I could already smell her. The tip of my nose pressed against her clit and I thought I heard a moan escape her but I couldn't be sure with the music still in the background from the living room.

Louis Armstrong. You cockblocking son of a bitch.

My tongue slid past her lips and into her. Never was I so grateful and not ashamed of having a larger than average tongue. Boy, was I made to be a lesbian.

Now, this time I was definitely certain I'd her her moan. Her hips moved against me. In more ways than one, I targeted her. My tongue, fucking her. My nose, fucking her clit. My hands, reached up and around her breasts. Her nipples were hard in the center of my palms. Right where my scars were. But, for once, I didn't need to rub the pain out of them. For once, there was actually some sort of pleasure there.

The headboard shook slowly and I could guess that she was holding onto it. She must have been holding on to something. With every rock of her hips, there was a moan and a hit against the wall from the headboard that followed. Slowly, but surely as if we were making music rather "love", there was a rise to our song. And some would call it the crescendo, and some – less musically educated, and perhaps more immature. Much like me. – would call it the climax.

I couldn't help but let go of her left nipple and reach down to cup my own sex. I couldn't help but rub my own clit. I couldn't help it, okay? The sounds she made. The sounds we both made. The taste of her. She tasted so fucking good. Like honey.

But far too soon was it over. I felt her walls clench around my tongue. Her hand clung to my right, which had still been wrapped around her breast.

Maura let out an audibly but slowly waning moan.

She was stock-still for a moment. Then she sighed in contempt and her hand slid down her body and into my hair as she climbed down my body. She settled on my hips.

Her lips were pressed against mine in an instant. And I knew she could taste herself. The fact that she continued to kiss me was somehow just so fucking sexy, I couldn't help but fasten the pace against my clit. But, she grabbed my hand and pulled it away. I whimpered into the kiss. I needed to get off. I needed to feel the same release I'd just given her. Fuck, I really needed it.

"That's _my_ job." She smirked as she crawled down my body. She settled between my legs and I watched her carefully move her hair to one side. She looked at me as if she was about to chow down on an expensive meal and she was starving.

I'd never seen this side of Maura before. The thought of her like this alone got me instantly wet again.

It didn't take long. For her to get me off. She was skilled at this and I tried not to dwell on that part. I told myself she was a quick learner and she must have studied the human body or some crap. Even if I knew that there was a possibility that she'd tested her skills on someone else first. Another woman.

She'd focused on my clit. And that was all that was needed. First licking then sucking then nibbling softly then back to licking and sucking. And fuck, I needed to come. She giggled when I let out a frustrated sigh. Her breath tickled my exposed clit.

"Patience." She said in the same way she'd said it when we'd switched clothes so I could go to dinner with that Jesse Wade guy and she asked for her shoes back to turn them into peep toes. I suppose the trouble _could_ have started _then_. When she'd done something so drastic – Maura drastic not normal people drastic – for me. The trouble could have started when we were at Merch. The trouble could have started when she was the only person I could go to when Charles Hoyt was after me.

Hell, I'll be honest, I'm not sure when the trouble started. But, I'll tell you this; with Maura Isles? It never ends. And, I fucking love it that way. `


End file.
